My Mind to Yours
by M. D. Jensen
Summary: T'Pol has made a choice... Trip is very greatful... the story is concluded.
1. Part I: How It Began

Disclaimer: I don't own T'Pol, Archer, Trip, or any other characters you know. However, the plot is mine.

AN: This story is in response to Quills' t/t challenge. The rules are: must be t/t, can be any length or rating. Challenge ends Halloween, voting runs from 1-8 of November. 

Well, I'm home sick, missing a vocab test, a guitar lesson and my best friends have a field hockey game! This sucks! But anyway, it's good for you coz I'm finally starting my response to the challenge! Vote for me! (LOL)

Rating: PG

Chapter: Book I of IV

****

My Mind to Yours

Book I: How It Began

"Any point in asking where you were, Subcommander?" Captain Jonathon Archer chuckled to T'Pol. "It's not like you to miss the salad, being that that's usually all you eat," he said dryly, and beside him Charles Tucker III laughed. 

"I was… detained," T'Pol informed them, settling down in her usual spot across the table from Archer.

"We saved you a steak," Tucker laughed. T'Pol grimaced.

"Trip…" Archer warned, but he couldn't figure out why T'Pol was so put off by their main course. After a year and a half on a human vessel, T'Pol had become almost used to the food. Tucker sensed it too.

"You okay, T'Pol?" He asked, leaning forward.

The Vulcan seemed to shake herself slightly. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," Archer said, his smile from the jesting fading rapidly. "Maybe you should go to sickbay." 

"I'm fine," T'Pol said plainly. Her jaw was set firmly and neither of the two men pressed the subject. 

"So, I'm in engineering, right?" Tucker began after a few uncomfortable moments. "And Ensign Parker comes up. Says something's wrong with the warp core, but she can't find anything. So I go to check it out, and I can't find anything. We're sitting there for almost an hour, crawling around looking for a faulty anything and you know what it turns out to be?"

"What?" Jon asked, mildly intrigued.

"Complete false alarm," Trip finished, puzzlement on his face. "Couldn't find a single thing wrong with the damn thing. Parker's scanner was broken."

"That's odd," Archer pondered. 

"You're tellin' me. And that's not the weirdest part…" he was interrupted by a sort of gagging sound from across the table. They both looked up. 

"T'Pol!" Trip shouted. The Vulcan was bent over almost double, her green color more pronounced than usual.

Archer dove off of his chair and hit the wall comm. "Archer to Phlox. Medical emergency, Captain's galley."

"I'll be right there," Phlox responded just as Archer heard Trip curse behind him. 

"She's not breathin'," Trip explained, a hint of panic in his voice. "And I can't feel a pulse."

"Doctor Phlox is on his way," Archer said. "Let's try to get her on the floor." They helped her lie down and waited for the doctor for only a minute.

"Where the hell is he?" Tucker said from his place above T'Pol, his fists going on her chest in a rhythmic pattern, just as Phlox and two nurses rushed in and whisked her away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Sickbay~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I've managed to stabilize her," Phlox said as he looked over T'Pol's vital signs. "As to the cause of her… attack, I have no answer."

"Will she be okay?" Trip asked hurriedly. He had paled slightly and seemed quite shaken up. 

"I can't say," Phlox said lightly. His tone seemed quite optimistic, but, then again, it always did. 

"Do you have any ideas at all about the cause?" Archer asked, his face contrasting Trip's by being totally stoic. 

"I can tell you very little. It's not contagious, for one. But beyond that, I think I'll have to wait until she's awake for answers."

"What makes you think she knows anything?" Jon said suspiciously. "Doctor?"

Phlox shifted uncomfortably, but it was only noticeable because of how well they knew him. "I'm most likely violating my doctor/patient confidentiality by telling you this… but her life may be in the balance." He sounded as thought he had made up his mind. "A few days ago, Subcommander T'Pol came in complaining of fairly mild symptoms. She said she couldn't meditate, she said she had no appetite and was a little dizzy. I assumed it was nothing; our latest first contact seems to have transmitted a cold-like virus to some crew members. I assumed it was simply a natural Vulcan reaction."

Archer bit back his next comment, asking why he hadn't been informed. After all, it wasn't necessary for him to be informed of every splinter or sniffle, and Phlox had deemed it unimportant.

"Can you wake her up?" Archer asked, shaking himself out of thought.

"Yes," Phlox said, but with his lilting speech, it somehow gave the impression of an epiphany, more than one simple stated word.

He pressed a hypo-spray against the Vulcan's neck and soon she stirred slightly and opened her eyes. 

"T'Pol?" Jon asked hesitantly. 

"Captain?" She said weakly. "What…?"

"You collapsed," Jon said simply. "About ten minutes after you arrived at dinner."

"How long have I been unconscious?" T'Pol said, sitting up. Phlox forced her back down. 

"Almost an hour," Phlox said gently, but he relented and lifted the back on the cot so that she could sit up.

T'Pol wasn't put off in the least. "An hour. Indeed. May I return to my station now, Captain?" she said almost coldly.

"Subcommander," the doctor broke in. "May I have a word with you…alone?" 

T'Pol seemed to sigh. "Very well."

The doctor looked meaningfully at the two men. Trip put up his hands. "Hey, I know when I'm not wanted." They turned to leave, then Jon turned back..

"Get well soon, T'Pol," he said, a hint of sarcasm as he turned to Trip and added quietly, "The bridge just wouldn't be the same without you two bickering." 

Trip scowled and chuckled, and the two left.

Doctor Phlox turned to T'Pol. "Exactly when are you planning on telling him?" He asked.

T'Pol cocked an eyebrow. "The symptoms have not yet started to effect my duties. I see no reason to alert Captain Archer until they do," she said coolly.

"Fainting in the middle of dinner isn't exactly what I'd call, mmm, 'not effecting your duties'."

"I wasn't on duty," she pointed out.

Phlox didn't miss a beat. "That doesn't change the fact that it happened, Subcommander. And soon, the Umacolm Syndrome will effect things beyond just, mmm, dinner."

T'Pol actually relented. "Very well. If it is your… professional opinion, I will inform the Captain tomorrow."

Phlox didn't accept this. "I doubt he's gone to bed just yet. Would you like me to call him here?"

"That will not be necessary," T'Pol said, looking slightly muffed. "I will go to his quarters directly."

The doors slid open gracefully and she exited. Phlox's cheerful-for-the-patient face fell. "Not that he could do anything," he said softly, and went about feeding his various creatures.

~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Archer's Quarters~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"C'min," Captain Archer said, looking up from his water-polo game, and Trip's protests to switch to the Giants vs. the Rams. 

T'Pol strode in directly. "Captain. Commander."

Archer tried to hide his grin. "We've been introduced, T'Pol, now come in and tell us what's on your mind."

T'Pol looked uneasily at Trip. 

"Whatever I'm going to hear, the Commander can too." Archer said casually, assuming it was some atoms misaligned by a micron or somesuch.

T'Pol looked uneasily at the chair she was being offered, and lowered herself down hesitantly. "I fear I am becoming unable to perform my duties to the best of my abilities." She began.

Archer offered his lop-sided, doubtful smile. "I don't see what you mean. If this is anything about what happened tonight… I'll understand if you're sick…"

"I am… ill," T'Pol said uneasily.

Archer stiffened. "What is it?"

T'Pol shifted very slightly. "It is a Vulcan disease known as Umacolm Syndrome. I causes the logic centers of the brain to disintegrate. It is contagious only to Vulcans. It ends in death," she said simply.

"What?!?" Trip shouted. "You're dyin'?"

"Yes, I am." She said plainly. "I assure you, I am fit to perform my duties…"

"To hell with that," Archer broke in. "You're just going to sit here and sign your death sentence?"

"I'm not signing anything," T'Pol said coolly. "I simply mean to say that the only known cure is out of the question."

"And that would be…?" Archer questioned.

"A mind meld."

"But you said…"

"Not with a Vulcan." She said simply. "With a human."

"A Human?" Archer demanded. "How could that help?"

"It doesn't change anything," T'Pol insisted coolly. "It's out of the question."

"T'Pol, as your commanding officer, I order you to tell me how this mind-meld thing works!" Archer said firmly.

T'Pol sighed, her face relenting to a weariness that the two men had never seen on her before. It put both at unease. 

"A mind meld is a traditional connecting of two minds. They used to be quite popular, but they are rarely used anymore." She stopped.

"Go on," Archer prodded.

"A mind meld between a human and a Vulcan will cause a slight transference of cultures and disciplines," T'Pol said, succeeding in making it more difficult than it already was.

"So you're sayin the Vulcan would become… illogical or something?" Tucker put in. He was trying to hide his disbelief that T'Pol was dying, but his colorless cheeks betrayed him.

"In a way, yes," T'Pol said, looking worse by the minute. "A mind meld with a human transfers enough illogical impulses that the part of the Vulcan brain that is currently inactive will activate. It will take over for the damaged part of the brain, preserving life but permanently transferring illogical traits to the Vulcan."

"Sounds better than dying," Archer pointed out. 

"Not necessarily to a Vulcan," T'Pol said quietly.

"Now you sound like a Klingon!" Trip half-shouted. "T'Pol, we're talking death here! Wouldn't'jou rather laugh once and a while than die?" He demanded, his voice cracking slightly. 

"The meld would also transfer slightly Vulcan traits to the Human, but these would fade with time."

"Then there's… really no question is there?" Archer said.

"With all due respect, Captain," T'Pol said. "It is my mind. It therefore is my choice whether or not I wish to have the mind-meld. Logic is precious to us, Captain."

"As much as it is," Archer said logically. "I think you really have to ask yourself if you'd die for it."

T'Pol raised her eyebrow. "It is natural instinct to preserve life through any means necessary. However, Captain, Vulcans have most of those instincts under control."

"This is stupid!" Tucker shouted. "T'Pol, you'd rather die than…"

"Trip," Archer warned. "This is T'Pol's choice. We have to understand if she's… afraid of a few human emotions," Archer said slyly.

It had the intended effect. T'Pol ruffled and sat up a little straighter, taking the comment as an insult, exactly what Archer wanted. Now it wasn't a hindrance, it was a challenge to her. "My side is not the only one to be won, Captain." T'Pol stated. "The human would also have to deal with months of Vulcan impulses."

"But they'd fade," Archer reminded her. 

"Yes. But… this has never been attempted before. There could be unforeseen side-effects."

"I'll do it," Archer volunteered. "If it meant saving your life."

"Illogical, Captain. You might be on bed-rest for days, what would happen if we were to encounter… difficulties?"

"I'll do it," a voice said from behind them. Archer and T'Pol both turned for face Trip, who, for the past few minutes, had fallen uncharacteristically silent. Now he looked determined. "I mean… it can't kill me, right? I can handle a few months with a stick up my ass if it'd save a life."

One look at Trip's eyes pushed any thoughts of argument out of Archer's mind. Triumphantly, he turned to T'Pol. "There. Trip doesn't seem to have any doubts. When can the meld be performed?"

There was almost panic in T'Pol's eyes. Almost. But more than that, she looked weary and overcome. "Whenever the Commander is ready."

"I'm ready now," Trip insisted, and Archer almost smiled. When Trip made up his mind, he was truly set.

"It would be… advisable to get a night's sleep first," T'Pol said uncomfortably. "I will meet you in sickbay at 08:00 tomorrow," she said before leaving.

When she had, Archer turned to Trip. "You don't have to do this, you know. I could order her to meld with me instead."

Trip smiled, but he didn't really look at ease. "Like she said, Cap'n, I might be laid up for a while. That can't happen to you, or the doc. No one else knows about it, and she probably doesn't want 'em to. It's… logical," he chuckled. 

"Alright, if you're sure," Archer relented. "But it won't be the same without you being sarcastic everytime someone breathes," he smiled. It was times like this he really felt proud of his best friend. 

Trip returned to uncertain grin. "See you at 08:00 then. I'd better go tell Ensign Parker that it's her turn to keep the ship in one piece for a few days." He left. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*sickbay~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Trip's eyes gently closed as T'Pol placed her hand on his face. "My mind to yours. My thoughts to yours," she said softly.

Archer and Phlox watched in wonderment as her eyes closed as well, and their breathing patterns slowed down and matched the other's. They both seemed in a trance-like state.

Phlox pointed to the readings. His voice was a whisper, even though it didn't have to be. "Look at the patterns. Their brain waves are practically aligning!"

"Isn't that impossible?" Archer whispered back. 

"Apparently not."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*bridge~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Lieutenant?" Travis Mayweather asked tentatively. 

Malcolm Reed was immediately at attention. "What is it?"

"Sensors are detecting something off our port bow."

"On screen," Reed ordered, leaving the command chair in favor of his armory station. 

The viewscreen flickered on, reveling nothing but tiny pricks of white on black. 

"There's some sort of cloaking field," Mayweather said.

"No life signs," Reed said, checking his instruments. "Weapons are on-line."

"Any idea what it is?" Travis asked.

"Polarizing the hull plating," Reed announced.

"It's firing!" Mayweather shouted. 

"Brace for impact!" Reed yelled.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*sickbay~*~*~*~*~*~

"What the hell was that?" Archer demanded into the comm.

"No idea, sir," Lieutenant Reed's voice reported. "Something cloaked off our port bow just fired at us."

"Any life signs?"

"None detected, sir."

"Any casualties?"

"None, sir. The blast was mild."

Archer switched the intercom from the bridge to engineering. "Report, Ensign."

"We've lost warp drive," Parker reported. "I'll have it up within the hour. No others damages reported, sir."

"Thank you, Ensign." Archer switched off the comm and turned to Phlox. "Sorry about the bumpy ride."

But Phlox wasn't paying attention. His eyes were fixed on Trip and T'Pol. Still in the trance, all four eyes were now partially opened. Their lips were moving in perfect synch, whispering something in another language. Suddenly both their eyes flew open and T'Pol's hand fell to her side. 

"Her readings are normalizing," Phlox announced, looking up from his charts. "It worked."

Archer let out his breath and smiled. "Good. What about those brain waves?"

Phlox's puzzled look of amazement returned. "Still almost in synch, Captain. I have no explanation for it."

The door opened from inside. "Captain, doctor," T'Pol greeted. Both she and Trip were paled and shaking, but they looked fine besides that.

"Okay,_ that_ was the weirdest thing I've ever done," Trip said fervently. T'Pol actually nodded in agreement. 

"Well, I'm happy to announce that you're cured," Phlox said, as casually as though a leg had just been splinted. "How do the two of you feel?"

"Odd," they said in unison.

"Well I'm not surprised. Tell me… do the two of you feel… different?"

"Well, yeah," Trip said. "But we both knew that would happen, remember? Three months with a stick up my ass?"

"Not so much that," Phlox sing-songed. "Your brains waves have harmonized with each other."

"That's impossible," Trip and T'Pol said together. 

"Commander… try and use your mind. Tell me what T'Pol's thinking."

"What are you getting at, doctor?" Archer demanded.

"Previous to the meld, we discussed possible side-effects, I believe." Phlox stated. "I believe that one of them has indeed some to pass."

"Wha…" Archer began, but Phlox interrupted. "I believe that Commander Tucker and Subcommander T'Pol have become telepathically linked."

"What!?!" Tucker shouted. "You're kiddin, doc!"

"He's not," T'Pol said painfully. "And if you could, Commander, please try and control your thoughts. I can feel everything you do and it's quite disarming."

"If you don't mind, Captain, I'd like to run some tests. The opportunity is incredible..."

"I understand your point of view, doctor," Captain Archer said. "But for now I think Trip and T'Pol need a little rest. I'm ordering them to bed."

"Doctor, how did this happen?" T'Pol asked. All three of them were ignoring the Captain.

"I believe that when you melded and Commander Tucker's mind activated the illogical part of your mind, a trace of his mind was left. I believe that your mind hooked on to that, in a manner of speaking. You are both "on the same wavelength", if you don't mind the phrase."

T'Pol accepted this immediately but Trip was more disbelieving. "So now instead of just acting like a Vulcan for a few months I'm gonna be stuck with one in my head for… how long?"

"I can't say," Phlox admitted. Whereas Trip was upset and T'Pol accepting, he was simply over-joyed. "Subcommander, would you do one thing for me?"

"If I can," she replied.

"What is Commander Tucker thinking right now?"

T'Pol frowned very slightly. "He is thinking 'why me?'"

Trip looked faint. 

Archer broke in. "I think we should sort this out later. I'm ordering you both to your quarters until noon. Then, I want all three of you to meet me for lunch. That's an order," he reiterated. 

Tucker sighed. "Yessir."

"Trip?" Archer asked.

"Cap'n?" He replied softly.

"You'll be fine. You've been telepathically linked before* and trained for situations like this."

"Not really, sir," Trip said, uncharacteristically quiet. "But I'll do my best."

Just as he turned to leave, another blast rocked the ship. "Archer to the bridge," Archer shouted at the comm. "Am I the only one experiencing déjà vu, here, Malcolm?"

"Another ship, sir, this one manned. I think you should get up here."

"On my way."  
~*~*~*~*~*bridge~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Another vessel just fired on us, sir," Reed reported immediately. "Thirty life signs."

"Hail them," Archer told Hoshi.

"I can only give you audio," she said apologetically.

"That'll be fine, Ensign."

"My name is Captain Archer of the USS Enterprise. You fired on my ship, and we, uh, wouldn't mind an explanation."

"Rter yut Doetyr. Wot yut drte Doetyro. Pov ruy."

The message repeated and Archer turned to Hoshi.

"Just one more time," she said. 

"Pov ruy. Rter the Doetyr. You are in our space. Leave now. We are the Doetyr. You are in our space. Leave now."

"I'm sorry that we are in violation of your territory," Archer said placatingly. "But I assure you, we had no hostile intentions. We are explorers from the planter Earth. We are out here to make contact with other species. Now please, stand down your weapons."

"Their weapons have gone off-line." Reed reported.

"Thank you. Now let's just talk about things real nice," Archer said, trying not to sigh in relief.

~*~*~*~*~*~*two hours later*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I'm glad that our two peoples first contact has gone so well," Minister Tyer smiled, his cheek-ridges fluttering. "Remember that the people of Earth will always be friends to the Doetyr. Goodbye, Captain Archer." The viewscreen flickered off. 

Archer sighed. "Another successful first contact, sir." Mayweather said from behind Archer.

"I'd say so, Ensign. Now, I have some other matters I need to see to."

~*~*~*~*captain's mess*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was clear immediately when he entered how uncomfortable Trip and T'Pol were with the new arrangement, and how fascinated Phlox was. 

"Hope you didn't start without me," Archer grinned as he walked in and took his seat.

Immediately, a crewman walked in, plates in hand. Tucker wrinkled his nose at the steak in front of him and served himself a salad instead. T'Pol, however, favored the steak above anything. 

"That's a switch," Phlox commented.

Wordlessly, T'Pol passed the salad dressing to Tucker.

"How are you to holding up?" Archer asked finally.

"Admittedly, it's a difficult situation," T'Pol said. 

"It's confusin'." Trip admitted. "Half the time I can't tell if I'm, thinking my thoughts or T'Pol's."

"You should sort things out within a few weeks," Phlox reassured.

"Indeed," Trip said.

"Let's hope so," T'Pol added.

Archer sighed. "This is gonna be hard to get used to."

*In Vox Sola, season one, Tucker was linked telepathically with Captain Archer and three other crewmen.

****

Next chap up by Next Friday


	2. Part II: The Silent Other

Disclaimer: see book one.

Summary for book two: After a few weeks of being linked, Trip and T'Pol are finally starting to accept that they might be stuck this way forever. But just as Trip starts to see the positive side, they discover just how dependant they are on each other and T'Pol's life falls into Trip's hands.

****

My Mind to Yours

Book Two: The Silent Other

Wordlessly, T'Pol handed Trip the correct wrench. Accepting it, he offered her a lop-sided grin. They lapsed back into silence again for a moment until the faulty reactor flickered back to life. Sliding out from underneath the console, Trip wiped his sooty hands on his uniform and T'Pol wordlessly stood up. Smile fading, he sighed. "It's not that bad, y'know," he offered, standing up.

T'Pol didn't turn around. "Verbal communication is not necessary with me, Commander."

"Will ye jus call me Trip?" He said exasperatedly. "And, yes, T'Pol, I know."

"Then why do you persist in it?" She said coldly, turning around.

"I honestly don't know," he retorted, throwing his hands in the air.

T'Pol frowned. "Please try to control your emotions, _Commander._"

"You know, you're not the only one not likin' this situation, T'Pol!" 

Wordlessly, T'Pol turned and left. Trip sighed and ran his hands through his hair out of frustration. "Impossible," he muttered to himself. "Totally impossible."

"You know that's the second time this week," a voice said from behind him, causing him to jump.

"Oh. Hi, Cap'n."

"We don't know how long you two are going to be connected. Don't you think you should try and make the best of it?"

Any of the anger that had left the engineer now returned twofold. "She's impossible! Being connected to her is like having some sort of… sort of… I dunno! She's completely deadpan!"

Jon sighed. "Trip, just try and be civil. I can make that an order, you know."

The anger dissipated again. "I know. Sorry, Cap'n." He thought for a moment, then a tiny smile crossed his face. "Could you order to feel something?"

Archer sighed. "I'll talk to her, okay?"

Trip flopped down on the comm chair and closed his eyes. "She's meditatin'," he said quietly. "She's at ease; relaxed. S'the only time she is." He opened his eyes. "I can tell whatever she's doin', whenever I want. D'you know how_ weird_ that is?"

Of course he didn't, but Archer could sympathize. That didn't help him with what to say, though, so he simply repeated, "I'll talk to her," and left. 

Trip watched him leave, then sighed and closed his eyes again. He concentrated as hard as he could on the feeling of his body and his own mind, a technique T'Pol had taught him a few days after the linking. (It had been the closest she could come to an apology, he'd decided.) It hadn't worked the first few times, but now he had mastered it "as best as a human could be expected to". At least it provided him a little separation between his thoughts and hers. But not this time.

"She's stopped," he whispered. "Jon's there. They're talking." His eyes burst opened as he realized he might not want to hear this.

///////T'Pol's quarters///////////

"Come in," T'Pol said, ceasing her meditation. 

"We need to talk," Jon said as gently as he could.

"Yes," she agreed.

"It's about Trip and you. He's upset."

"Indeed," she said as if she already knew. Which she did. "Continue."

"I think he's a little disquieted. By your… lack of emotions."

"_Distumacon_," T'Pol said.

"Pardon me?"

"Distumacon," she elaborated. "It means 'the silent other' in Vulcan. It's a syndrome that often occurs when a Vulcan and a member of a more primitive species form a telepathic link."

"You know about this?!?"

"Only in theory," she said coolly. "Only a dozen cases have been reported. Those who have experienced it reported feeling like they have a 'ghost' inside of their heads."

"That's a… way of putting it," Archer smiled. "But not exactly what Trip said."

"Indeed," T'Pol said in disinterest.

"Is there anything you can do?" Archer said, eager to fulfill his word to try and help. 

"I can do nothing," T'Pol said firmly. "However, the commander could instill a mental block _if he was willing._"

"Trip doesn't like having his freedom limited," Archer said firmly. "You can't really expect him to voluntarily block off part of his mind."

"If Commander Tucker is so determined to have his mind back to himself again, he has to be willing to make some sacrifices."

"If you ask me," Archer said, trying to hide his anger. "Trip already made a pretty big sacrifice for you. In case you've forgotten, he saved your life."

That stopped her, but only momentarily. "Which I did not ask him to do."

Archer sighed. "I can see I'm not making any difference here. Maybe I'll just… leave you to your meditation." He stood up and left the room. Behind him, T'Pol re-lit her candle and resumed her meditating.

Corridor after corridor, Archer made his way back to the bridge, where he had left Trip. It was the middle of the night, and not many of the crew were awake, but Trip and T'Pol had stayed up late to fix a faulty consul, and Archer wasn't tired. 

"Any progress?" Archer said as he entered the bridge, empty of all but Trip.

"Got it functioning all right until my people can construct another spare circuit."

"I meant with blocking her out," Archer corrected, and a dirty-faced Trip slid out from under the consul. 

"Oh. Nope, none," he said. Then, after a pause: "You?"

"I couldn't budge her," Archer admitted.

"See? She's impossible."

"She did tell me one thing," Archer said. "Some sort of mental block."

Tucker looked distinctly uncomfortable. "She did mention that," he said softly. "But I'd rather have a Vulcan in my head than a brick wall."

Archer sighed. "Look, the consul's fixed. Why don't you turn in? We both have alpha shift tomorrow, so I'll see you up here at 08:00 hours."

"Right. See ya later, Cap'n." He pushed past his friend and the turbolift doors slid open and shut again.

Archer sighed again, as he seemed to be doing a lot lately. 

////////////the next day////////////

The bridge was entirely silent when suddenly the lights flickered and went off briefly. 

"Someone wanna get me a flashlight?" Travis Mayweather said nonchalantly. While he was used to this kind of thing, Ensign Sato's breathing had gotten heavier.

"Relax, Ensign," Archer said. "Trip, do you wanna try and figure out what's going on?" but just as soon as it had happened, the emergency lights took over. 

"Probably just a bad circuit," Trip said tiredly. Archer noticed how much he had been talking like that lately, almost like it took him a great effort to say "boo."

"Do you require assistance?" T'Pol directed at Trip.

"I'll be fine," Tucker started to say, but suddenly he couldn't continue. In fact, no one on the entire ship could move, even breath. The emergency lights went out, just as everyone on the entire ship passed out.

///////////////////

By Travis's chronometer, they were asleep for almost two hours. 

Once Malcolm had awoken, being first, it only took about three minutes for Hoshi to mark the last of them to awake. 

"Any idea what that was, Lieutenant?"

"Not really, sir," Reed said stiffly, rubbing his forehead where he had hit it.

"You okay, Malcolm?" Archer said. "That's a pretty nasty gash," he commented as Reed's hand came away bloody.

"I'll be fine, sir."

"I want you in sickbay," Archer asserted, but just as Reed began to protest, Trip let out a small scream.

"Trip? What is it?"

"She's gone," he responded through clenched teeth.

"Who?"

"T'Pol." 

Archer's eyes flickered around the bridge. He was right; T'Pol was no where to be found. "She might have woken up before us," Archer reasoned. "Knowing her, she's in sickbay figuring out what happened."

"I'm tellin' ya, Cap'n, she's not on the ship," Tucker protested desperately. His eyes were darting around like a caged animal's. 

"He's right, Captain," Reed reported. "No Vulcan bio signs on the ship."

Archer looked at Trip just in time to see him panic.

///////////////sickbay///////////////

"Trip, just try and calm down," Archer said placatingly, but his friend didn't seem to hear him. To Phlox he added: "What's wrong with him?"

"I can't find anything wrong," the doctor said. "At least… not physically. It might have something to do with, mmm, the Distumacon syndrome T'Pol mentioned."

"The silent other," Archer mused, trying to access the information he hadn't bothered to take seriously.

"Yes. There hasn't been testing done, but it was theorized that if to far separated, the person connected the Vulcan may experience a sort of withdrawal, with symptoms much like what the Commander is experiencing right now."

"Can you do anything?"

"Certainly!" Phlox said brightly. "A neural depressant should do the trick…" he said, pressing a hypospray to Trip's neck. Almost instantly, his eyes stopped darting and the lids lifted.

"Jon?" Tucker said groggily. "What happened, Cap'n?"

"You, er, fainted," Archer said, and he would have been laughing ad the circumstances not been so odd. 

Raising himself slowly onto his arms, Trip shook his head. "Can't remember." Then his eyes lit up in realization. "T'Pol…"

"You were right. She is gone," Phlox said gently.

Trip moaned and lay back down. "I knew it," he whispered.

"What you're experiencing is a sort of withdrawal due to your connection with T'Pol," Phlox explained.

"Coulda told you that much," Trip remarked. "Look, Cap'n, we _have to find her_?"

"Trip?" Archer said, but Phlox interrupted.

"Right now I think it's best it Commander Tucker tried to get some rest. His mind had been through a lot." He re-set his hypo and set it again Trip's skin. "I'm giving you a time-delay neural suppressant. It'll take effect in seven minutes; I think you can get to your quarters by then." Trip began to protest but the doctor broke in, "I suggest you go now unless you want to fall asleep in a corridor somewhere instead."

Tucker grumbled but left pretty quickly. When he had gone, Phlox turned to Archer. His voice taking on a more serious tone (if that was possible), he said, "Do you have any idea where Sub-commander T'Pol could be?"

"None," Archer admitted, sinking down onto a cot. 

Phlox looked uncomfortable. 

"You're not telling me something, Doctor," Archer accused. 

Phlox forced his eyes to look at Archer. "If we're right in assuming that Sub-commander T'Pol has been taken, I believe I know a way to find her."

"What?" Archer said, standing up. "Spit it out, Doctor."

Phlox relented quicker than Archer had thought. "Obviously, the connection between Commander Tucker and Sub-commander T'Pol hasn't weakened drastically.

"Are you suggesting…"

"Yes. I believe that, using Commander Tucker, we could locate her."

Archer thought hard. "What would the strain be on Trip?" He said finally.

"None worse than he's under right now, Captain," Phlox said seriously. 'And I have to warn you: unless the two are re-united permanently, the negative effects could be permanent.

Archer tried to stay calm, but something in Phlox's eyes resembled the Grim Reaper. "How bad, Doctor?"

"All linked parts of his mind would be permanently shut off."

"And those are?"

"His logic centers. And all of his emotional centers."

Without another word, Archer returned to the bridge.

"We need to find T'Pol. Now." Archer announced as soon as he got there. "Trip's life may be on the line."

"It gets worse, sir," Reed said, giving up the command chair. "T'Pol's might be as well. Hoshi?"

"I've detected a signal, sir," Ensign Sato reported. "Source unknown. But I think I've got it translated."

"Let's hear it, Ensign."

A cold, male voice filled the room. "We have taken the Vulcan from your ship. If you want to see her again, we suggest you give us the information on the The Floaters. We have her hostage. Her life will be terminated in fifeteen of your hours."

"Great," Archer said sarcastically. "Just great. What do you have on these 'Floaters', Hoshi?"

Hoshi's face was even paler than usual. "I don't know what they mean. We don't have anything on any Floaters."

"Run it through the UT."

"I already did sir."

"It sounds like a species name," Mayweather mused. "Why don't you run it through all known languages instead of just English?"

Hoshi's fingers flew over her consul. "I've got a match. The Doetyr."

"We made first contact with them a few weeks back," Travis recalled. 

"We didn't trade any information," Reed said. His tone made the very idea sound ludicrous. "At least nothing _classified._"

"I guess the… who sent the Transmition, Hoshi?"

"They call themselves the Seimine," Hoshi supplied.

"I guess the Seimine don't know that," Archer said. "Can you pick up any warp traces?"

"None, sir," Reed admitted. "But the time we awoke they were long gone."

"Any transporter traces? Do we know how they got T'Pol off the ship?"

"All I can tell you, sir, is that it certainly wasn't random. They specifically took T'Pol."

"But why?" Archer asked, more to himself than his crew. "I think," he said suddenly, "A conference with the Vulcan High Command is in order."

///////Trip's quarters//////////

"They're hurting her," Trip said again, but his wall wasn't really interested. "I have to help her, but they won't let me," He protested. The sedative had worked for maybe five minutes, that's all. Now the withdrawal was over-powering him.

"She's crying…" he realized. "She's terrified. They have to STOP!" He yelled, sitting bolt upright. What he didn't realize what that right then, he felt closer to her than he ever had. And she was finally feeling something.

////////bridge/////////////

"T'Pol is your officer," Admiral Forest retorted to Ambassador T'Kel on the other half of the viewscreen. "Jon isn't asking for any schematics or anything, he just wants help finding her!"

"The Seimine are a violent race," T'Kel responded coolly, both the Archer and Forest. "I don't understand what else you need to know."

"I don't know! What do they look like, who are their enemies, what do they have for breakfast?" Archer exploded. 

T'Kel raised one eyebrow. "We have never seen them directly and I certainly don't know what they eat for breakfast. Their enemies are the Doetyr and anyone associated with them. I have more pressing matters to attend to," he said, and Admiral Forest's image took over the entire screen.

"Sorry, Jon," the older man said. "I'll see if I can work on Ambassador T'Kel. Good luck with T'Pol," He offered, then his image left, too.

"That was overly-complicated," Mayweather commented. 

Archer sighed. "Keep working on tracing their signature. I need to go talk to Trip."

///////Seimine ship/////////////

"I told you," T'Pol protested. "I don't know anything about the Doetyr. Our exchange was purely a nicety. I don't know any more about them than I know about you."

"Vulcan!" Captain Nailliv shouted. "Your people have allied the Doetyr for decades! Now you have dragged these… these humans into it!"

"I know nothing about the Doetyr. Nor does Enterprise. If you want information, contact my people."

"What?" Nailliv smirked. "I thought these idiotic humans were your people now." His hand reached for the button again and T'Pol shrieked as electricity ran through her body. 

/////////////////Trip's quarters//////////////////

"I see whatever Phlox gave you didn't hold out very long," Archer said gently, sitting down on the bed next to Trip. 

Tucker lifted his head from his hands. "I can feel her," he whispered. "In my head, just as strong as ever. They're torturing her."

Archer played dumb. "Who?"

"I don't know. Whoever took her."

"The Seimine," Archer elaborated. "They're holding her hostage."

"I know," Trip said softly, then he moaned softly. "I can feel it all." He tapped his head.

"Trip, there's something you're not telling me." Archer prodded. Trip sighed.

"I'm dyin', Cap'n."

Archer started. How could Trip know the dangers of the connection? "What do you mean?"

Trip's eyes finally met Archer's, and he was shocked to see a tear tracing down the younger man's jawbone. "Ever since the connection, I can't stand not bein' around her, Jon," he said, purposefully using Archer's real name. "It's like bein' in love but more… mental. I can feel it here"-he touched his forehead-"not here"-he motioned to his chest.

Archer pursed his lips sympathetically. "That's… sort of what I came to talk to you about, Trip," Archer said.

"I know," Trip said, straightening like he was at attention and wiping away the tear. "You need to find T'Pol. And I'm the only one who can."

////////////////////sickbay////////////////

"You realize the risk involved," Archer said again as Phlox hooked Trip up to almost a dozen monitors.

"I understand,' Trip said stoically. Funny, Archer thought, how much he seems like T'Pol right now.

"This will put you in a sort of subconscious state," the doctor explained, injecting Tucker with a blue-colored liquid. "It should increase your telepathic range." No sooner than he had said this, Trip's eyes half-closed.

Archer and Phlox waited for almost ten minutes before anything happened. "I see her," Trip reported suddenly. 

"Where is she?" Archer asked.

"He can't hear you, Captain," Phlox reminded gently. "He's deep in a trance."

Archer nodded, but now Trip was moving.

"Where's he going?" Archer demanded, but of course Phlox didn't know.

"I suggest we follow him," Phlox began, and before he finished, both men were out the door.

Phlox followed Archer following Trip all the way to the bridge. Had the Circumstances not been so grave, the looks on Hoshi's, Malcolm's and Travis's faces would have been priceless. Almost any time but right then.

"Let Trip take over, Ensign," Phlox said gently to Mayweather.

"Sir?"

"Do it, Ensign." Archer said firmly. Mayweather nodded and moved.

Wordlessly, Trip sat down at the consul and began working. After almost a half-hour of finger flying, he sat back and turned to Archer.

"Can you wake him up, now?" Archer asked Phlox. Trip's vacant yet all-knowing eyes were beginning to weird him out a little.

"Certainly."

Trips' eyes opened fully. "I think this is it, he said hesitantly."

Suddenly, a large ship resembling something like a giant sword appeared on-screen.

"Twenty-seven bio-signs," Reed reported. "One Vulcan."

Archer smiled. "Good work, Trip."

Tucker looked nervous, though. "I just hope it's not too late."

"How's our timing, Hoshi?"

"Seven of the fifteen hours left," Hoshi reported.

"Plenty of time," Archer assured his friend. Then to Hoshi: "Can you hail them?"

"I'll try, sir. On screen now," she announced after a pause.

"You have the data requested?" The warped green face on screen said.

"You have our crewman?" Archer said stiffly. 

"T'Pol!" Trip said suddenly. "She's hurt; they're torturing her."

"Your Engineer is very smart," Nailliv said cruelly. "If you ask him he will tell you that the Vulcan is alive. But not for long."

"Give her back!" Trip burst out suddenly. "Give her back, you son of a bitch!"

"Commander!" Archer said sharply, but Trip didn't hear him. "Commander, control yourself! That's an order!"

"Do you have our data?" Nailliv said firmly. 

"Give us ten minutes," Archer protested.

"The clock is ticking, Captain," Nailliv said, just as Hoshi cut him off. 

"How can we get her out?" Archer demanded.

"We could try the grappler, sir." Mayweather said.

"It wouldn't work, Captain," Reed cut in. "She's too deep inside the ship."

"The Transporter?" Hoshi suggested.

Archer noticed how quiet Trip was and looked over. Trip was staring into space, deep in thought.

"I don't think it's advanced enough," Reed was saying when he looked back. "Captain?"

Archer brought himself back to the conversation. "It's out best option, Malcolm."

"No," Trip said softly. "Captain, if we try the Transporter, something will go wrong."

"What?" Archer said gently. "What'll go wrong?"

"I don't know…" Tucker said quietly.

"I need answers, Trip."

"I'd believe him, Captain." Phlox said firmly.

Archer sighed. "Any other options."

"Actually, yes sir." Travis said. "There's a ship off out port bow. It's Vulcan."

"Put them on screen."

"Admiral Forest advised us of your situation, Captain Archer," A Vulcan female resembling T'Pol said. "We thought we might assist you."

"You sure are a sight for sore eyes," Archer admitted. "How good is your transporter?"

The Vulcan ruffled. "More advanced than yours, I assure you. We…" Suddenly, a blast rocked both ships. 

"One minutes," Archer said. "Hoshi, put our friends on screen." The green face re-appeared. "What the hell was that?"

"A warning, Captain. We see the Vulcan vessel and we don't much appreciate it when we're ganged up against."

"We're not ganging up on anyone," Archer began to protest, but he didn't get a chance. Another blast sent most of the bridge crew to the floor.

"Put the Vulcans back on screen," Archer shouted over the chaos.

"We're transporting T'Pol to your bridge now," the Vulcan said. 

The Siemine fired again and as soon as Travis saw T'Pol on the floor, the ship went to warp.

"Highest we can get," Archer told Mayweather, then spun around and kneeled next to T'Pol.

She had greenish blood covering her wrists and neck and her face was bruised, but Trip was treating her as the most beautiful girl in the world. He looked happy enough to cry.

"You're back," he said breathlessly, hugging her tight enough for Archer to laugh in relief. 

"Easy there, Commander," Phlox said, obviously amused as well. "T'Pol's been through quite an ordeal." Embarrassed, Trip broke off. 

Archer turned back to the viewscreen, where the Vulcan female had appeared again.

"Thank you," Archer said.

"You're welcome, Captain Archer. Now I believe I may be able to help you with another predicament," she said. All of a sudden, T'Pol sat up.

"T'Pau?" She asked. Archer could have sworn she even sounded excited. 

"You two know each other?" Archer asked. 

"Of course," T'Pau elaborated. "T'Pol is my sister. And I believe I have a cure to her link with Commander Tucker."

****

Oh, I'm so evil! Cliffhanger! Want more?


	3. Part III: After the Thunder Comes the St...

Disclaimer: I didn't own this a week ago I don't own it now. 

AN: I've been getting a lot of e-mails and reviews (luv ya guyz) asking about the disease and the cure and all that. While I do have the facts and such laid out, I didn't want that to become the focus of the story. So, while you can't find the info here, just e-mail me any questions you have or leave a review and I'll answer all the questions in a separate chapter. And yeah, this is the T'Pau from Amok Time. In my verse, she's T'Pol's sister.

****

My Mind to Yours

Part Three: After the Thunder Comes the Storm

"What?" Trip shouted.

"I believe I have a cure to the telepathic connection you share with T'Pol."

"Wait a second," Archer broke in. "T'Pol, why didn't you ever mention your sister? Are you two close?"

T'Pol wavered. "No. I am twenty-eight years her junior."

"You have a cure?" Trip broke in again.

Archer sighed at the chaos. "Perhaps this would… be easier to discuss face-to-face. Would you… like to dock and have dinner with us?"

T'Pau tilted her head. "I accept. Thank you."

/////////////////////////////////////

As they were walking down the corridors to Captain's mess, Trip pulled T'Pol aside, away from Archer.

"Look, I can sense how uncomfortable you are around T'Pau," he began. "Is there something you wanna tell me?"

"Certainly not, Commander," T'Pol replied cocking her head and starting away.

Trip grabbed her arm again. "T'Pol…" he said warningly. "Don't make me read your mind!"

T'Pol sighed (a trait she had acquired from Trip in their time connected) and relented (a trait she had not). "I'm only telling you this because the information is already at your disposal."

"I'd be a gentleman about it," Tucker said innocently.

"T'Pau and I never got along," T'Pol explained. "Although our age gap is normal for siblings on Vulcan, it made it hard to relate to her."

"Oh." They walked in silence for a few minutes until Trip started, "So. D'y'think she's got a…cure?"

T'Pol considered briefly. "Yes. If T'Pau says she does, she must."

"Oh." Tucker said. It didn't seem to be the response he was expecting/agreeing with/hoping for. He sighed. "It's gonna be weird, y'know. Having my thoughts to myself."

T'Pol merely made a soft noise in her throat and replied, "It will be… odd."

"Odd?" Tucker demanded, but not really angrily. More… nostalgically? "We've been hearin' each others thoughts and feeling for a month and it'll be 'odd' when it's over!?!"

"It was quite interesting, however, to hear you wake up at oh-three-hundred hours craving pecan pie," T'Pol said, raising her eyebrow. Trip chuckled.

"But I mean, you never… felt anything?" He asked, now serious. 

"Like what, Commander?" T'Pol questioned.

Trip shifted. "Nevermind."

"No," T'Pol said. "Tell me." 

Tucker didn't immediately reply. "You never felt anything… deeper?" He said, looking away uncomfortably. 

"Like what?"

"Something… more than friends… oh, can't you just read my mind and figure it out? This isn't real easy to say!"

T'Pol cocked her head. "If you are asking if I ever felt anything non-platonic, the answer is no, Commander."

Trip threw up his hands. "I knew it. Shoulda never thought. Connected to me for a month and you still can't feel anything. Forget it. Let's go. I don't want to spend another minute like this!" He stormed off. But if he had stayed, he would have realized that T'Pol wasn't telling the truth. 

////////////

"Excellent… salad tonight!" Archer exclaimed, his small talk topics running out. 

T'Pol raised her eyebrow but didn't look up from her meal.

Trip sighed obviously and T'Pol winced.

"Sister, have you been perpetually tense ever since you joined the crew?" T'Pau posed innocently. Now it was Archer's turn to wince. This wasn't going in the direction he wanted. T'Pol didn't answer. 

T'Pau seemingly took the hint, at least, better than any Vulcan Archer had ever seen. She even seemed to try to change the subject. "I am prepared for performing the ceremony when ever you are ready to go through with it." She said, in a tone that to a Vulcan was "helpful".

"Fine by me," Trip said, somewhat angrily. He pushed his food away without touching any.

Archer shifted in his seat. "How long will it take? To… perform the ritual, I mean."

"It should take roughly one hour and twelve minutes to reach a deep enough meditative state, and then an additional twenty-seven minutes to perform the transfer." T'Pau answer promptly.

"We're ready _now_," Trip pushed. T'Pol touched her forehead in the sudden surge of negative emotions she was forced to experience. 

"T'Pol?" Archer said instinctively. If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn that T'Pol was frowning when she looked up.

"I'm ready now as well." She said firmly. Trip's mouth twisted into a somber sort of smile/grimace, half of triumph, half something else. 

T'Pau looked slightly taken aback, but, being Vulcan, never missed a beat. "Very well. Captain, whenever you can free a room I am ready to perform the switch," she said in her heavy accent.

Archer looked from her to T'Pol to Trip, who refused to do anything but scowl. Though under other circumstances, it would have been funny. Now, Archer was merely alarmed. "I'll have Phlox prepare a room for you as soon as I can."

'As soon as I can' turned out to be twenty minutes, and now Archer stood watching T'Pau place her hands on the faces of both linkees.

"I don't think you're really, mmm, speeding up the process, Captain," Phlox said from behind him. Archer turned around to see Phlox looking up from one of his various creatures. 

Archer made a sort of noise but merely replied, "It's my duty as Captain to keep tabs on my crew."

Phlox rippled in acknowledgement. "Certainly." He went back to watching the procedure, but the only thing in the room was two passively expressioned Vulcans and one human commander, twitching convulsively every few minutes. 

Archer sighed. "How long has it been?" he asked a half-hour later.

"Seven-point-two minutes after you asked last time," Phlox replied cheerfully. 

Archer frowned slightly. "How much longer will it take?"

"Probably another half-hour or so… _patience_, Captain!" Phlox shook his finger. 

Suddenly there was a crash and Jon returned his stare to the room, shocked at what he saw. Both sisters were bent over Commander Tucker, who seemed to be having some sort of seizure. Momentarily, he stopped and T'Pau pushed open the door.

"It went as planned," she reported, gesturing at Trip, whose eyes were now open.

"Will he… be alright?" He asked.

"Yes," T'Pau said. "An expected reaction. He should be fine within ten of your minutes."

"Oh," Archer said. He wished he could say something more.

"Urghhh… what happened?" Trip moaned from the floor. Archer kneeled down. 

"You get the number'a that shuttlepod that hit me?" The younger man grumbled. Archer smiled.

"Hear anything?" He asked gently.

Tucker looked at him oddly, and Archer realized how funny that must have sounded. Then one corner of his mouth lifted. "No, just me…" He seemed delighted by this, and somehow almost renewed. But when he climbed to his feet, his knee gave out and Archer moved quickly forward to catch him.

"Whoa…" Trip mumbled. "Thanks, Cap'n."

"How do you feel?" Archer asked.

"A little dizzy," he admitted.

Jon looked to T'Pau, who seemed unfazed. "He'll be…" but suddenly Tucker interrupted them all by doubling over, retching. 

////////////Trip's quarters///////////////////

"Feeling any better?" Archer asked gently of his best friend.

"A little," Trip said groggily. "My head hurts... what'd that Vulcan do ta me?" He Archer opened his mouth but Trip groaned in response, "No, don't answer that." He sighed. "I thought it'd feel a lot better than this," he said softly.

"What'd'you mean?"

"Having my head to myself," Tucker replied, lying back. "'Stead I just feel…"

"Like hell?" Archer suggested helpfully.

Trip grimaced. "Yeah. I feel… empty sorta. And sick," he chuckled weakly.

"T'Pau says she's never seen anyone react like this," Archer said,

"Great," Trip said. "Don't tell me I'm gonna be a guinea pig." He smiled, then coughed.

"Wouldn't want that," Archer joked. He smiled, but stopped when Tucker went into a coughing fit. "Are you okay?" He asked again. 

The engineer nodded, waving his hand, unable to talk. When it ended, Trip took his hand off his mouth and groaned. "Can you at least get Doctor Phlox to give me something? Like… knock me out?"

But Archer wasn't looking at his friend's face, he was looking at his hand. 

"Trip…" he said uneasily. "You're coughing up blood."

/////////Sickbay//////////////////////////

"The closest I can come to, Captain," Phlox jargoned. "Is that Commander Tucker's side of the connection was, mmm, so strong, that it was approaching physical. When the two disconnected, it severely depleted to commander's immune system. 

"What can you do?" Archer asked.

"I'm not sure yet," Phlox said cheerfully. "But I think we'll know soon… ah! The tests are done!" With a natural flourish, Phlox viewed the tricorder's read-out. Then his face fell slightly and he read it again.

"What is it Doctor?" Archer said hurriedly.

Phlox pressed I lips together tightly. "I'm not sure I understand the exact theory quite yet," Phlox said. "But I can tell you captain, that unless Commander Tucker and Sub-commander T'Pol are re-connected soon, Commandeer Tucker will die."

Archer's face fell.

"Possible solutions?" He said, trying to keep his voice above whisper.

"The only way I see to stop it is to re-establish the connection with Subcommander T'Pol. Shall I call her in?"

//////////////////////////////////////////

"You see why it's an… issue, Subcommander. I'm sorry to say this, but I'll have to ask you to…consider re-establishing your connection with Trip." 

T'Pol shifted. "I'll consider it."

Archer reached over his hand to place it on hers but she recoiled. "In case you haven't noticed," T'Pol said coldly. "I'm not currently connected to any _humans._ Please don't touch me." And she walked out the door.

CLIFFY! I'm so evil! Remember, any questions you have, just ask. Later!


	4. Part IV: A Choice Made A Love Won

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in here, really.

AN: Okay, this is my last chapter of my contest entry fic. Remember, any questions you have just ask. Maybe I'll make a chap 5 with just the answers. I hope you like this.

****

My Mind to Yours

Book IV: A Choice Made; A Love Won

__

You understand my position then, sister? T'Pol asked softly in her native tongue. _Though he is no longer connected to me, I feel him every second. I thought it would be liberating to have my mind to myself, instead it is limiting. And now… Commander Tucker will die if I do not agree to this._

"You ask my advice," T'Pau replied in English. "It is surprising, given your level of pride."

__

What do you mean by that?

"You fool yourself, sister." T'Pau said simply. "You are too prideful to admit it, but you are shifting from our ways. You have lost yourself to one… not of our blood and are ashamed to admit it."

__

I ask only your guidance: do I give up my mind for the Commander or do I self-preserve?

T'Pau looked up from lighting the last candle and focused hard on her younger sister. T'Pol had assumed a meditative position on the floor, eyes closed, but she was fully conscious. She sighed. "They've brain-washed you sister. Individuality is not illogical. It is merely a step of evolution; a natural one. Freedom of thought was honored years ago, so it will be again."

"You speak in riddle!" T'Pol exclaimed, accidentally mixing the logical Vulcan way of speaking into English. Then she calmed herself. "You're not making any sense," she said coldly.

"I am merely suggesting this: perhaps you do feel something more for Commander Tucker than you're letting yourself believe." T'Pau said, rising. "I leave you now to your thoughts." 

She left, leaving T'Pol even more confused than when she started. 

__

Absurd, she thought to herself. _T'Pau knows nothing of what she speaks._

Slowly, silently, she began constructing a mental chart of the pros and cons to the re-connection.

Five minutes in, she stood up, too suddenly for a normal Vulcan. "I need to talk to Trip," she said aloud. 

/////////////////sickbay/////////////

"Come in," Phlox said, looking up from whatever it was he was tending to. 

T'Pol entered, hands held behind her back as usual, but her face was unusually contorted, as though in unwavering determination. "I must speak with Commander Tucker."

"He's asleep at the moment," Phlox replied casually.

"It is a matter of great importance," T'Pol said. She was doing her best to keep the desperation out of her voice, but Phlox picked up on it.

"Of course," he said. "He's behind that curtain."

"I would prefer…" T'Pol began, but Phlox read her position and interrupted, " If you'll excuse me, I'm late for lunch with Ensign Sato." And he left.

"T'Pol?" Someone said groggily from behind the curtain. T'Pol pulled it back to see Tucker, struggling to sit up. 

"How do you feel?" She said gently, sitting down on the bed. He looked at her oddly.

"Like I'm still asleep," he drawled, edging away from T'Pol. 

"I've been thinking about what you said," T'Pol admitted.

"Yeah?" Trip asked, managing to struggle into a sitting position. 

"I've spoken with T'Pau," she told him.

"Really?!" He said, raising his eyebrows in mild interest. "And what's she got to say on… what'r'we talkin' about?"

"She said I was avoiding it," she said.

Trip sighed. "I guess I am too."

"She says I'm ashamed of it…"

"Hold on," Trip said suddenly, laughing. "We're not talking about the same thing, are we?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The re-connection. What'r'you talkin' about?"

"Nothing," T'Pol said quickly.

"No-what?" Then realization dawned in his eyes. "Oh…"

"Do you still feel that way?" T'Pol blurted out in the most human matter Trip had ever seen her speak in.

Trip shifted, obviously uncomfortable. "I'm sorry. I never shoulda said anything."

"No." T'Pol said, taking one of his hands in hers. "I'm the one at fault. T'Pau was right; I'm apprehensive of any individuality."

"What… what kind of individuality?" Trip said, his breathing slightly forced.

"The kind that comes only when a Vulcan…" she leaned in closer. "Loves a human."

She pressed her lips against his, but he pulled back. "What'r'you doin'!?!"

"Isn't this the way humans show affection?" She asked softly. Tucker gave up resisting her lips.

////////////////////////

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Trip asked T'Pol as she slipped into the ritual robes.

"Yes."

"This is permanent," he reminded her. "I die without this, remember?"

"All the more reason," she insisted. T'Pau entered the room and sat down between them.

"You have chosen well, sister," she said. All that would have been seen from outside the room was T'Pol's and Trip's forms going limp and then and hour later re-animating and embracing.

//////////////one year later////////////

"Do you have any idea why he wants to see me?" T'Pol asked her friend Jon. 

"You're the one with the link, not me," He pointed out, smiling.

T'Pol returned it, though it still looked a little forced with her not being used to working her mouth that way. "Jon, you _know _that would be violating our 'when it's a secret it's a secret' pact."

Jon raised his eyebrow. "How could I have forgotten?" **(AN: yeah I know that was OOC but I couldn't resist!)**

They reached the door to Trip's cabin. "Wish me luck?" T'Pol asked shyly.

"Good luck."

She entered the room.

"T'Pol!" Trip looked up from the candle-lit table. He was wearing a suit that he looked uncomfortable in, but he hadn't been able to comb order into his sandy hair.

"Trip," she greeted. "I… uh…" she pointed to the food on the table as though trying to look for something to say. "I hope you didn't make that yourself."

Trip blushed. "Chef helped…er, after I almost set it on fire."

T'Pol laughed, and Trip joined her nervously. "Uh, sit down," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him. Almost spilling it in apprehension, he poured two glasses of wine and passed one to T'Pol. "To you… for savin' my life a year ago today," he said quietly. 

"You called me here for something else, didn't you?" She asked. 

Tucker nodded. "Look, T'Pol, I've been thinking. I mean… since we're already connected by your standards, we might as well finish it and add mine."

T'Pol cocked her head in interest as Trip produced a tiny box with shaking hands. The Vulcan ;leaned her head over in interest.

"T'Pol," he said, inhaling sharply. "Will you marry me?"

Okay, well, that's it! I decided to leave it at that, so I hoped you liked it! T/T forever!


End file.
